


Of Saviors and Sovereigns

by RedSkyNight



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Canon-Typical Violence, Death being Death, Other, he's a big grumpy grump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSkyNight/pseuds/RedSkyNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Council calls Death forth to take care of a possible threat to the Balance, our favorite Rider is less than pleased; The last thing he needs is the pesky Child of Darkness, Nyx, following him around the whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Of Missions and Mixed Messages

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from ff.net, as i'm redoing the whole thing.

###### Prologue: Of Missions and Mixed Messages

Death’s days, as boring as they usually were, kept him from dwelling on his lost brethren and the slightly off-kilter Council. Well, that is, until he was summoned to the latter, live and in person.

The Pale Rider stomped noisily about his home, slinging on his heavy armor and snapping his bone mask into place. He was far from pleased.

 As he stormed about, he wrote a note for his younger siblings, should they (undoubtedly) come to him for help. Strife and War had always managed to find trouble everywhere they went. Yes, he meant _everywhere_.

 Dust alighted on his shoulder, croaking questioningly as he heard his master muttering curses about ‘that damnable council’ while he readied his rucksack for travel. Death, of course, ignored the silly bird, and walked out of the door, childishly kicking it shut behind him. The Rider then summoned Despair, and soon he was flying past the forests in the place he called home, the horse’s sickly green flames lighting up the murky darkness of the pre-dawn air.

 After reaching the Council’s summoning point (which Death swore took longer to get to every time; something his familiars seemed to find amusing), Death Banished Despair, much to the steed’s annoyance, and opened a portal to the Council’s burning little world.

 Death grunted as he landed on the other side of the portal, cringing beneath his mask as he inhaled the thick, black smoke that permeated the council room soaking everything it touched with its acrid stench. He really hated this place.

As the Pale Rider approached the Council, he bowed respectfully, taking a knee and lowering his flaming eyes to the magma that surrounded the Council, but even this could not stop the malice that laced his form and made itself known through his fiery eyes. “What brings me before the Council?” His raspy baritone echoed in the council room, breaking the silence, and Death could have sworn one of the Council members let out a sinister chuckle.

  **“You needn’t kneel before us, Pale One, that is for lesser beings, like your siblings.”** The middle one started and Death could have sworn that the one on the far right had whispered _‘And are you going to need it!’_

 Death rose, and asked gruffly, “Why have you called me here?” The Horseman had never liked the Council, never had, probably never would. The jabs at his siblings only served to reaffirm his blatant dislike.

  **“Ah, Death, straight to the point, as always.”** It was the one to the far right again. **“We require your assistance because something not unlike Corruption threatens to awaken a very big problem for the Balance.”**

Death would have rolled his eyes at the doomsday prediction had he not possessed enough sanity to know that a dismissal of the Council would be, well, death. “And pray tell, what is that?” Sarcasm wasn’t off limits, though.

  **“You insolent fool! I should--!”** The middle Council member cut off the one to the left before it could start its rant.

 Middle started his exposé **“There are dangerous creatures attacking the Vale of the Dark Creator, they must be put to a stop before they awaken that blood-crazed beast.”**

 The right one continued where Middle left off: **“It would be disastrous if the Creator rose from slumber.”**

  **“A complete nightmare for the Balance.”** Finished Left, who forgave Death (as it always did) for his initial trespass.

 “You want me to cleanse the Creator’s lands of Corruption?” Death asked, “Why doesn’t the Creator do it Himself?”

  **“It is not Corruption that you will face, but the sinister armies of of the God Commander.”** Middle was speaking again.

 “What God Commander? And, I will repeat my question: Why can’t the Creator do it Himself?” Death was quickly becoming impatient, he was quickly growing tired of the burning scent of ash and the scalding heat of the molten rock below him.

**“Yes, the God Commander, better known as Dhaun, the god of Sickness and Plague. He brings out the worst in everything in Creation and is capable of enslaving any being who meets his eyes.”** Right had taken over again, but Left finished up:

**“Can you imagine the destruction that would be caused if the Creator was under Dhaun’s control?”** It answered its own question. **“Anarchy and unbalance, that is what would happen if he turned the Creator, or if the Dark One was involved at all.”**

Right answered Death’s second question: **“The Dark Creator is dangerous, and is currently sleeping. It has been that way for millennia, and we have no want for it to change. If He were to be involved, there is no guarantee that any of the dimensions would survive His ire.”**

“I know that I have no choice – But why me, why not one of my siblings?” Death asked, knowing that Strife would likely gain much from the discipline of such a task.

**“We would have left you alone, but the task calls for someone with a level head. Your siblings, they don’t have the skill to hide their emotions from any normal being, much less the prying eyes the God Commander,”** Middle answered.

“How will I get to the Vale?” Death gave a long-suffering sigh, resigned to his fate. Dust croaked in surprise, flying onto Death’s shoulder as a swirling green portal opened in front of them. “I was aware that portals such as this showed where the user would be transported, this one is completely dark.” Death’s words were an understatement. The Darkness was thick as pitch, no light to banish the shadows. 

Middle grated out a laugh, which echoed terribly in the Council chamber. **“Yes, this is the Vale of the Dark Creator, Rider, Light is a rarity there.”**

“When would you wish me to leave?” The question was redundant because the portal had already been opened.

Left sneered out: **“Now.”**

“As you wish,” Death said. With one last deep sigh, he stepped through the portal and was consumed by writhing shadows.


	2. Of Saviors and Sovereigns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death sees Dhaun and saves a shapeshifter.

**Chapter One: Of Saviors and Sovereigns**

* * *

**_I've never been the type to turn my back and run._ **

**_It's just never appealed to me to be the same as everyone._ **

**_And when it comes to shove and I can't see you through the black,_ **

**_I'm going to scream your name till you come back._ **

 “Through the Black”-Demon Hunter

 

* * *

 

When the shadows spit him out, he realized that the Realm of the Mad Creator wasn’t as dark as the portal had made it seem. Even so, he spent the first half an hour in the Vale waiting for his vision to come back to him. As his eyes adjusted, he surveyed the area.

He was in the middle of a forest, the tall trees with sloping branches hanging over his head, leaves of an indescribably dark color that were sharp as glass to the touch were attached to equally as indescribable trees. The darkness, he realized, would be a huge problem. Predators adapted to the stygian environment gathered around the clearing he had been dropped in, their panting breaths and light footsteps loud in the silence. To make matters worse, there was a thick fog covering the ground that made vision impossible from his thighs down. It made him uncomfortable, as the fog softened the sound of his loud footsteps, and if it could make his heavy footfalls sound so silent, he wondered what it would do to the creatures waiting in the darkness. Death muttered a curse, and Dust let out a soft caw that echoed off of the trees and through the silent forest.

The darkness finally yielding to his eyes, Death took a few cautious steps forward, starting violently when a single, razor-sharp leaf grazed the uncovered part of his jaw. On his armor-clad shoulder, Dust squawked indignantly and flapped his wings as he resettled, hitting his master hard in the side of the head.

“Get off me, you damned pest. Go do something useful for a change.” Dust cawed again, and if he could have sworn, he probably would have. Only Death could manage to find a crow with the ability to look affronted. Lucky him. He sighed and ducked the rest of the low hanging branch in front of him, wary of the razor leaves, and stepped fully into the clearing.

Above him, three dark quasi-suns were in a permanent eclipse, the single ring of light around them bright, but unable to fully pierce the darkness. In the distance, a mountain rose up, and if Death squinted, he could see a large castle set into the side of the mountain itself. Sighing, Death summoned Despair, and the ghostly green mount nickered, nuzzling against his rider’s shoulder. That castle would be as good a place to start looking as any. With some good fortune, perhaps he could find the master of the place to aid him in his mission. With that plan in mind, the horse and ride set off. Despair trotted through the darkened woods, and Death rode low, avoiding low hanging branches and falling leaves.

The stygian forest seemed to go on forever, and Death wondered if somehow they’d gotten stuck in a mirage loop, despite the fact that he doubted angelic curse-breakers would ever venture into a place like the Vale. Thinking of Azrael and the Archon, he definitely didn’t think either could handle the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere the very earth seemed to give off. As they continued, the trees and murky darkness seemed to grow darker still, until the only light could see was the sickly green shroud given off by Despair and the barely visible outline of Dust, who was not even ten feet from him. Hours passed, and Death and Despair exited the thickest part of the woods, coming upon a village surrounded by a misty gloom. The forest cut off abruptly where the small civilization began, and as Death rode into the desolate village, he realized something was very wrong.

There were fires burning, and now that he looked, they were bright, blazing in the streets and incinerating the small houses. Death jumped off of Despair, the swirling green mist that followed his mount disappearing as he vanished. The horseman moved to take a step forward and realized he was standing in something liquid. It stuck, slightly tacky to his boots, and when Death looked down, he saw that the ground surrounding the village was covered in cooling, but still recent blood. There were drag marks leading towards the center of the town, and Death, against his better (and probably smarter) judgment, followed the trail to the center.

As he got closer, a smell he recognized from his days as Absalom’s feared Second-in-Command came in on the breeze. It was acrid, and Death, despite the numerous times that he had encountered the wretched scent, felt almost nauseous. Maybe the Guardian Oran had been right; he was going soft. As he moved closer the scent, mingled with smoke, grew stronger; and, with the increasing stench, came another thing -- sounds of life.

Death’s fears were confirmed as he peered around the side of one of the half-destroyed cottages to look into the town square. In the center of the square sat a large bonfire, and in it, the charred and smoking bodies of the previous inhabitants of the  town, or so he assumed. Around the bonfire, shapes made entirely of solid-looking shadow were brawling, drinking, and engaging in numerous other immoral activities. The Rider drew another similarity between these invaders and his past brethren. It disgusted him.

He judged the delicate situation, deciding to err on the side of caution, not knowing the threat well enough to fight it. There were enough of the shadow beings in the town square to worry him, just doing a quick estimate, it looked to be over one hundred of them. They were strange. Entirely black, but without uniform shape or size. Some were the height of children, while others were the same height of the tall cottages that made up the tiny, decimated civilization. Some of the creatures had the legs and bodies of spiders; the tails of snakes; and the bodies of men. It was disconcerting to see the creatures, which were obviously of the same species, due to the fact that none of them looked the same, except for the inky blackness of their skin and fur.

He was about to exit the town square, when suddenly, from the other side of the bonfire, very loud, very female shouting pierced the dull roar that had made up sounds in the square up to that point. Then, there were other, louder shouts, and Death saw two of the shadow creatures drag a small figure around the still burning corpses. They threw her roughly down in front of a man who was sitting on a golden throne. He, unlike the rest of the shadow soldiers, was not the same shade of inky black.

Though he might have less repulsive if he was. He was a sickly gray, and the odd coloring stood out even more when he was covered in his smooth looking black armor. In comparison, his lime green eyes, fringed by black tattooing stood out, but didn’t help in making him look any less disgusting. His face was gaunt, and his cheekbones were so hollow, he almost looked skeletal. Death stared hard, before realizing that this could be Dhaun, the god of plague that the Council had prattled on about.

Death was brought out of his musings on the identity of the mysterious leader when he heard the girl shouting.

“Leave me alone, you thrice-damned son of a demon!” Her voice was rough with fear, but despite that, there was a defiant look set into her aristocratic face. Upon her rude arrival in the town square, the leader (who may or may not have been the very creature Death had been sent to kill) had looked up from the map that he had been studying, and made a noise of approval as she was thrown in front of him.

“Good job, my children, you did well in finding her.” He said, a dark grin plastered on his face. The two wolf-headed soldiers clapped a fist over their hearts and bowed, before backing away into the crowd. Death crept closer as the shadow beings moved forward to see the confrontation that was surely about to take place, and finally he found a place where he had a clear view of the girl and the king.

“My dear girl, I expected that you would be harder to catch. I was looking forward to running you ragged trying to hide from me; your defeated face when you realized your struggles were all for naught would have been beautiful.” The words were sharp and cruel, and reminded Death of the sound glass made when it was cut.

The girl let out a hollow laugh, and the sound of it would have made a more emotional man flinch back. Luckily, Death was not an emotional man. “So, Oh Great and Powerful King of Sickness, what can little ol’ me do for you? I wasn’t aware that gods required the help of lesser beings, please, tell me what you need, and I’ll endeavor to keep it from you for as long as possible.” Her words were biting and chilled, no hint of the earlier fear showing through. He admired the stranger for her ability to stand, well, kneel in front of an apparent tyrant, and not show fear.

Probably-Dhaun’s face twisted into something uglier, and he growled out: “You _will_ tell me where the Dark Creator is, or Kreatos help me, I will incinerate you where you stand.” He laughed mockingly, “I know who you are, Nyx. A shapeshifter, the attendant of the Mad God, you must know where he sleeps. After all, the popular rumor is that you knew everything about where the Creator laid himself to rest.” The tone of his voice insinuated something that was very much sacrilegious, even Death, a newcomer to this realm, knew that.

The girl reeled to her feet, looking as if she’d been slapped. “I would _never_ \-- How could you even think that?! The Dark Creator was my master, my mentor, my _family_ , and you degrade that into something as base as - as _sex_?” She looked him in the eye and spit, the wet smack of contact with the King’s face echoing in the suddenly silent square.

Dhaun was a deadly sort of calm as he reached a single gloved hand to wipe the spit from his face, his glare going from angry to downright poisonous. He got up from his throne and bent to grab her by the throat. She couldn’t have been over five feet, and she looked small, suspended in the air held by the God’s powerful hand. “You _bitch._ ” He hissed, the sudden hollow echo in his voice made the girl flinch, and the shadow soldiers all seemed to lean back, affected by their leader’s anger. “You _harlot_. How dare you?!” His hand began to squeeze tighter around her throat, and she began to struggle, sending her red hair flying as she fought for breath.

She wailed her fists against his arms and torso, but she was losing the air that gave her strength. Unconsciously, Death began to move forward, and, though no one else saw his approach, the dying girl focused her purple third eye on him, and then blinked, slow and purposeful. Death tilted his head, and barely refrained from shouting in surprise when the girl’s voice sounded in his mind.

_“Will you help me?"_

Death could only nod, and she closed all three of her eyes, in some sort of sick relief. He could only watch, confused, as her form became covered in shadow, before a long, thin line came into view. Before any of the beings around her could catch on, the shadows solidified into a purple and black snake, and Death realized what she wanted him to do.

“Damn it all,” He muttered, already sprinting the short distance to the snake, grabbing her and ducking Dhaun’s hands. It was over in seconds, but it felt like years. In the next moment, Death was summoning Despair and soon the trio and their new hitchhiker were hauling all kinds of ass to get away from the shadow army.

Death sighed as he realized that they would have to go back into the thick forest, and growled out to no one, “Well, this has been a good day.” His words were lost in the fog of the forest, which seemed to be growing denser with every passing moment that they spent in it. In his lap, the snake suddenly went limp, and the fourth horseman inexplicably had a lap full of shapeshifter. He looked down to ask her just what the hell she thought she was doing, when he saw that she had fallen unconscious and was in the process of falling completely off of Despair’s back. 

He grabbed the girl, holding her tightly as he felt his shoulders and head being raked by the razor sharp leaves that hung from the trees. This girl, whatever she was, was probably going to be a lot more trouble than she was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are, the first real chapter!
> 
> If you see any mistakes, be sure to tell me so I can fix them!


	3. Chapter 2: Of Deities and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death meets Nyx, for real this time.

**Chapter 2: Of Deities and Death**

* * *

 

_A mask burnt into my skin, ancestral I become_  
 _Woven into dust, they're watching me_  
  
_To pretend to be detached from the fabric of constant change_  
 _To deny a connection to the threads that make you whole_

“Ancestral, I” – Rivers of Nihil

* * *

The trek through the woods was grueling. By the time Despair had reached the edge of the silent, glassy river Death was ready to turn back to the Council and tell them to solve their own damn problems, thank you very much. He was also ready to throw the unconscious girl off his lap and leave her there. Her third eye, disturbing mind linking, and shapeshifting were excellent reasons for him to drop her into the mire and run like hell was chasing after him. The rider tried to tell himself that he wanted no part in whatever had gotten Dhaun so interested in her, because it wasn’t _ his  _ problem. But, speaking to the Council had gotten him curious about the mysterious Dark Creator, and hearing Nyx and the Commander of Plague argue over his whereabouts had only made him more interested. He tried to tell himself that his reasons for keeping her with him were purely so he could ask her about the Creator, and not because he didn’t want to leave an unconscious girl alone in the woods with creation-knows-what when there was practically an entire army chasing her. 

The dark river in front of him was silent and unmoving, at least on the surface. Several hundred feet downstream Death could just barely make out the shape of a bridge. Urging Despair on, they went the last couple steps to the bridge. 

It was made of a smooth, black stone, and every step Despair made on it echoed across in the intense silence that drifted up from the river. Absently, Death wondered what magic could be making the flowing river so calm, and added it to the list of things that he would interrogate the shapeshifter about later. 

On the other side of the river, there was a large stretch of plains bordering on the large mountain he had seen earlier. The fog had faded away as soon as they had stepped off of the bridge, and through the everlasting twilight, Death could make out a grouping of trees a ways off on the horizon. Making that his goal to set up camp, he forced Despair into a gallop and threw one of his arms over the unconscious girl’s chest to keep her from falling. Dust had taken off for the trees already, correctly guessing his master’s destination, and the crow was barely a speck in the distance, practically invisible due to the darkness combined with the millions of glowing stars that littered the sky.

Death had had a bad feeling about seeing Dhaun and his army in that small town. Something had told him that he shouldn’t just run into that fight blind, and for once, he listened to that (smarter) voice in his head and walked away from that fight. Well, almost. Except now he seemed to be harboring a fugitive shapeshifter who may or may not have served directly under the Dark Creator.

Well, let it never be said that a Horseman’s life was easy. 

Death and his companions were fast approaching the cluster of trees that served as a quasi-entrance into -- oh, surprise, surprise-- yet  _ another _ forest. As they reached the trees, however, he realized that bedding down among these trees was going to be a lot less painful. They seemed to just be normal leaves. That was probably a good thing considering the multitude of cuts he’d gotten from the razor-leaves were starting to proclaim their arrival into the forefront of his mind. The pain, isolated to a few cuts, would have been fine, but his shoulders, back, and arms had been raked by the leaves over and over again while he had been protecting the small shapeshifter. Once again he cursed the sleeping girl for causing him so many problems, and hefted her into his arms, before sliding off of Despair’s back, wincing as it put a strain on the wounds, which didn’t feel like they had even begun to heal. 

Death paused. That was abnormal. The wounds had been there for hours, but they were still bleeding freely. He realized the likelihood of there being some sort of poison on the leaves and prayed that it wore off on its own, because he was no healer and had no idea what reaction he would have if he tried to fix it himself. 

Still carrying the redhead in his arms, Death trekked further into the forest, the smattering of trees causing insignificant shadows as it seemed to get progressively darker. Despair whickered and trotted after him, stopping when they entered a clearing. Deciding to play it safe, Death set the girl down on the grass at the edge of the clearing, where they would we away from the prying eyes of any overhead travelers. 

Meanwhile, the darkness was growing increasingly more apparent, and Death chanced a look up at the sky from his place in the clearing. Sure enough, the largest of the suns had disappeared and the second one was almost out of sight, leaving the third and smallest to light the sky. Death knew that if it was already dark enough to cause problems and the sun wasn’t even down yet, that it would probably be a good idea to light a fire for when it inevitably got darker. 

After gathering enough kindling to last what he hoped would be the whole night, the Rider returned to the makeshift campsite, where he had left Dust and Despair to watch over Nyx. He murmured a quiet ‘good job’ in the direction of his animal companions as he focused his attention on the shapeshifter. She was still out cold, and Death, against his better judgment (again) was beginning to get worried. The ride on horseback had been at least seven hours, and he had been gone for another hour and a half, including his perimeter checks of the surrounding area; she probably should have woken long before then. Sighing, he settled down and cleared a space for the fire. As he had predicted, it was getting nearly impossible to see and he was glad that he had had the foresight to collect the wood. As he sat in front of the newly formed fire,  he thought back to Dhaun’s army. Writhing beings of shadow. It sounded like something out of a children’s fairy tale. And then there was  _ Dhaun _ . He was unsettling in the worst of ways, gaunt-faced and smiling cruelly; he reminded Death a little of Absalom. Not in looks, no, Absalom had been tall and broad, a wall of muscle; Dhaun was tall and rail-thin, his limbs seeming disproportionately long in comparison to his body. 

No, but what Dhaun lacked in looks, he had up for in attitude. He, like Absalom, was cold and calculating, and enjoyed nothing more than watching another being in pain. 

Death hadn’t realized he’d been glaring darkly at the fire until Dust popped into his line of sight, illuminated by the firelight, crowing softly. Death stroked the bird’s feathers and said quietly: “What do you think, Dust; will we be meeting Nyx soon?” Dust cawed and fluffed up his feathers, jumping onto Death’s crossed legs and demanding more pets. The Rider obliged him, running his large fingers over the crow’s head. 

They stayed like that for another couple hours, only stopping when, on the other side of the fire, the previously unconscious shapeshifter started to thrash around, before bolting upright, all three eyes wide with panic. She took massive heaving breaths, each one ending with a pained grimace as she assessed the damage that had been done to her throat. She turned her head, observing Death with vague familiarity. 

“You are the one who saved me?” She asked, tilting her head and surveying their surroundings.

“Yes.” Death replied gruffly, glaring at her and suddenly remembering why he had considered abandoning her earlier. He hated dealing with others. He had always preferred animals or his inventions to people, and now he was reminded of why. 

Nyx looked a little put-off by his glare but asked another question anyways. “And who are you, exactly? You’re not from here, that’s for sure.” 

Death weighed his options, before settling on telling her the truth. “I am Death, on of the Charred Council’s Horsemen.” He looked at her again before asking, “And who are you, really? I know your name is Nyx, but there has to be more to you than that.” 

“Ah,” she breathed, “well, they call me Nyx Abendroth, I was the Dark Creator’s right-hand man, err, woman. Now I’m just Nyx the shapeshifter, I guess.” 

Death sat up straighter and winced, the multitude of cuts on his upper body making themselves known again. The Rider hoped the girl hadn’t spotted it, but realized that the thought was in vain, because she was already making her way around the fire and into his personal space. “What happened to you?” She asked, looking at the still bleeding scratches. 

Death shifted uncomfortably, “I got these in that forest with the sharp leaves that was around the village I found you in.” While he spoke, his eyes were drawn to the shapeshifter’s neck, where a large, angry, hand-shaped bruise had formed. “You should be more worried about your neck, the bruising looks rather unpleasant.”

Nyx laughed, and winced as her throat smarted, “I’ve ‘ad worse. So you got these in the Glass Forest, huh? They hurt like hell if you don’t have healing salve, but luckily for you, I just stocked up on some.” The girl reached inside of a bag that had been tied with a silver sash and pulled out a small, dark bottle. “You really are lucky, had we met yesterday, I would’ve been completely out of the stuff.”

She opened the bottle and started smearing the green paste onto his shoulders and back. Death started to insist that he could do it himself, but she cut him off with a harsh ‘shh’ and continued to rub the paste in. The Rider remained tense as the burning sensation of the cuts was rubbed away by small, cool hands. When she moved back to make sure she had covered all of the scratches, Death said, “Thank you, but I have a few questions about the other  _ things  _ that were in the village.

Nyx sighed and scooped out more of the paste, rubbing it onto her bruised neck. “Yeah, it’s no problem,” She said, “I’ll tell you about the guys that razed the Lokheed Township.” She settled with her back to the fire, the glowing flames seeming to set her hair ablaze. “The Big Ugly was God Commander Dhaun, who, by the way, is the biggest backstabbing asshole you’ll ever meet, just so you know. He controls that ugly ass shadow army that you saw throwing those darklings in the fire. He just showed up a couple of months ago, he’s pretty set on finding the Dark Creator so he can turn him to his will. What better to control a universe than with the being who had a hand in creating it?”

“I see,” Death said distractedly, “so what exactly can Dhaun do?” 

“He can transfer sickness through touch, and he enjoys sapping the life force out of people as a method of torture. You’ve already seen that one in action.” 

Death thought for a second, before remembering that Dhaun had seemed to be taking all of the fight out of the shapeshifter when he grabbed her by the neck. “So he can steal energy through touch too?”

“Yeah, and it’s damn painful, like putting your fingers to a saw and taking your sweet time cutting them off.” She shuddered at the memory of being held in the god’s grasp. 

“How...eloquent.” Death said, wondering if the girl in front of him could be serious if she tried. 

“How about you let Dhaun wring your neck and see if you can find a better way to describe it.”

“No,” Death said, feigning a superior attitude, “I don’t think I will. It doesn’t seem very pleasant.”

“Bastard.” she replied, glaring. “So, Mr. Death, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Commander Dhaun, actually.” Death answered. 

“Oh? You two planning a tea party?” She asked, smiling sarcastically. 

“Yes, actually, how did you know?” Death said, his bone mask hiding his smile. 

“Oh, well, you know, you look like a tea party man to me, so I just assumed that that’s what you were here for.” She was still grinning, and even though Death still didn’t trust the shapeshifter, he relaxed slightly, figuring that if she had planned on attacking soon she would have already done it, before replying:

“Sadly, no. I’m not here for a tea party. The Council has actually sent me out to kill Dhaun before he can wake the Dark Creator and use Him to destroy the world.” 

Nyx hummed and smiled at Death, “Well, it seems like we have a common goal, then.” She stayed silent for a stretch of time, observing the fire. The, she looked at the Nephilim nervously before asking, “You wouldn’t happen to have room for one more, hmm?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, that’s another chapter down! Let me know what you think; I’m not afraid to take suggestions!
> 
> Leander


	4. Chapter 3: Of Partners and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death gets guilt-tripped into helping Nyx.

**Chapter 3: Of Partners and Plans**

* * *

 

**_Tell me_ **

**_Tell me of your consolation_ **

**_Tell me_ **

**_I am lost in the gray_ **

**_Tell me that your final home is not a…_ **

**_A shot in the dark_ **

**_Tell me that your hopes and dreams don’t end in the heart_** ****

**_Of a graveyard_ **

**“The Heart of a Graveyard” – Demon Hunter**

* * *

 

Nyx picked at the light blue sleeve of her tunic as she waited for the Horseman to reply, an increasingly powerful headache growing between her eyes. She was nervous about being left out on the Dark Plains with no protection, should Dhaun’s army catch up with her, she would be finished, no question about it. There were just too many of them for her to focus her energy on fighting; the very presence of so many twisted souls had her sick to her stomach. Pushing down her anxiety and pain, she met Death’s eyes in the dim glow of the fire. He held her gaze, his eyes intent. His posture had stiffened again, and if she could see his face behind the bone mask, she probably would have seen his mouth set into a hard line. He looked like the serious type to her. 

“Well…?” She asked hesitantly, her voice quiet with nerves. 

“I’m thinking,” He replied, his fiery eyes never leaving her face. “What can you contribute to my goals?” He asked finally, and Nyx felt like he was staring straight through her. 

This question, however, she could answer. “I know the land. I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember, and with me, you can be sure to know exactly where you’re going.” She paused, pursing her lips, “I’m a shapeshifter? Wait, you already know that. What I mean is that I’m good for scouting and, if need be, spying.” As she said the words, the pressure mounted in her skull, and she had the distinct feeling that she was forgetting something very important. 

Suddenly, a crow swooped down from the trees, alighting on Death’s shoulder. The Rider gave a long-suffering sigh as the crow cawed loudly in his ear. Nyx smiled slightly, knowing from Death’s attitude that the crow’s behavior was always that annoying. He motioned to the bird with his free hand and said: “This is Dust, my absolutely useless companion, he usually does the scouting, when he’s not trying to deafen me, that is.” He leveled a glare at the bird and Nyx would have laughed had she not felt like her head was about to explode. 

Nyx’s headache doubled in intensity, and she brought up a hand to clutch futilely at the side of her head, before realized what she had been forgetting, and a wave of guilt crashed on her like a thousand ton wave. She jumped up, startling Death into rising with her, and looked around, the pain in her head growing stronger with each passing second. She scanned her dark surroundings, and, upon seeing nothing, felt like laying down and crying. 

“What?!” Death asked, alarmed at Nyx’s sudden worry. He walked forward until he was standing next to her at the edge of the clearing, and watched her as she grabbed her head and muttered to herself. “What’s happening, girl?” 

The shapeshifter growled, pulling at her hair, before she turned to look at Death, anger and guilt clashing in her eyes, “How could I forget my own damn familiar? I have no idea where he is!” She squeezed her eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of her pale nose with shaking fingers. She didn’t look well, he noticed, and no sooner than the thought had appeared in his head, the small girl was pitching forward. Death caught her and led her back to the fire, where she curled in on herself, staring at the dancing white sparks. 

“You have a familiar?” Death asked, frowning beneath his mask, “I don’t remember seeing anything on the way here. Is he small?” 

The red-haired shapeshifter let out a sharp laugh, “That depends, do you consider a four-foot tall cat small?” 

Death stared at her. “What on Earth would posses you to have a familiar that large?” 

She smiled, rubbing her aching forehead. “It was an accident more than anything else. About fifty thousand years ago, the Dark Creator and I visited the Third Kingdom. While I was there, I met a very large  _ Homotherium latidens _ , and he just wouldn’t leave me alone. I ended up playing the adorable trump card on Erebus - oh, that’s the Dark Creator’s name, by the way - and he broke the rules and let my take Pyrrhos back here, to the Vale. It was a good thing too, last I heard, the Homotherium died out around thirty thousand years ago.” 

The Rider looked at her, and asked: “So, just how dependant are you on your familiar’s stabilization powers?” Nyx read the underlying message he was trying to convey immediately:

“You mean how long do I have until I can’t function? It depends on how far away he is. Pyrrhos and I haven’t been apart for an extended period of time since the Great Storm, when a minor God of Chaos passed through and kidnapped me.” She sighed, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have a range of time, or some vague schedule that the deterioration will follow?” Death could feel that little voice that sounded suspiciously like Absalom whispering that it would be for the best if he left the next time the girl turned away, and fought it back for the time being, waiting for her response. 

“Ballpark?” Death tilted his head, confused. “Oh, it’s a Third Kingdom thing, what I mean is that I  _ maybe _ have about twenty-four hours? Probably a little more. Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I could give you a straight answer if my head would  _ stop fucking hurting!” _ Her words got increasingly louder, until it was more of a quiet shout. Shook her head sharply, a pained grimace clouding her face. 

“Nyx, you need to stop moving around.” The use of her given name caught her attention, and she fell still, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright, is there anywhere you think….Pyrrhos would go if you were ever separated?”

She thought, her brow creasing as her three purple eyes became unfocused. “Ah! There is one place. Itzal Keep, the castle in the mountains. I bet he’s already on the way there.”

“Why do you think that?” Death asked, tilting his head.

“Because this headache would have woken me up sooner if he was heading in any other direction. That means he was probably pretty close behind us while we were traveling across the Plains, and now that we’ve stopped, he’s gone and passed us by.”

“So your headache is due to the distance between you and Pyrrhos?” Death had never heard of such a thing, but looking at the amount of pain the girl was in, it was suddenly a very viable option. “That means the further you get away from him, the more incapacitated you’ll become.”

Nyx looked up at met his eyes, an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face. “I know, and, Horseman, you have every right to leave me here, I’m not going to be of much use while I can’t be with my familiar.”

Death narrowed his eyes calculatingly. She was giving him an out. As soon as the true night ended, he could mount Despair and be on his way to-- wait. “Did you say that the place,”

“Itzal Keep,” She supplied.

“-Itzal Keep was the castle on the side of the mountain?” 

“Yes?” She asked. “What of it?”

The Nephilim sighed, a sinking feeling in his gut telling him he was about to get sucked into a journey for the long haul. He brushed a hand through his hair and replied, “I very well couldn’t leave you, seeing as I’d set that Castle as a destination of sorts.” 

“Really?” She said, surprised. Upon seeing his nod of confirmation, she continued, “I don’t want to get in your way, Horseman.” 

“A little too late for that, girl.” Death said, rolling his eyes. Nyx glared at him, but there was little heat to it. 

“My headache isn’t getting worse.” She stated, looking in the direction of the dark mountain. “I think that means Pyrrhos had bedded down for the night.” 

“Speaking of night, how long does this stretch of darkness last?” Death asked, wondering how much the total lack of light around them would affect traveling. 

“Eh, I’d give it a few more hours, attempting to maneuver in this level of darkness would be nearly impossible for someone like you, and I would rather not have to risk being attacked by the Cŵn Annwn.”

“Cŵn Annwn?” Death asked. “I am unfamiliar with them, what are they?”

“Ah, they are the hellhounds of the Wild Hunt, the hunting dogs of the Seelie King, Gwynn ap Nudd.” Nyx smiled faintly, “Several thousand years ago, he asked me to look after them, as this is where the Wild Hunt usually takes place. They roam the Plains and can be quite vicious when provoked.” 

Death was staring again, and he looked away, shaking his head in amazement “Where do you find this kind of company, girl?” 

“Being the right hand of the Dark Creator gives you all kinds of access to the Old Gods. They’re pretty awesome, actually.” She yawned and rubbed her face. “Hey, Death, I don’t know if sleep is necessary for you, but I need some.” She then pulled off her worn fur-lined cloak and laid down, her back to Death and the fire. 

The Horseman watched in amazement at the girl exposed her vulnerable back to him, and then wondered what he could have done to give her the impression that he wasn’t a threat. In the back of his mind, that smarter voice whispered something about helping charity cases and going soft. 

Sighing, Death got comfortable and relaxed into a meditative state, keeping himself from sleeping so that he could stay alert should any predators approach. 

He knew now, that this was going to be one hell of a trip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you see any mistakes, be sure to let me know so I can fix them. I typed this up and proofread it I at 12:30 AM so I’ll be surprised if there aren’t any.
> 
> Also: Look up the Homotherium, they’re seriously awesome!
> 
>  
> 
> Leander


	5. Chapter 4: Of Tales and Tavels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes and conversations are had.

#### Chapter 4: Of Tales and Travels

 

* * *

**_I've deceived the lonely_ **  
**_And in the dark I've grown_ **  
**_I now clench the fists of hands to limbs that aren't my own_  ** 

**_You have conquered cities_ **  
**_And torched the mighty sea_ **  
**_You may keep yourself afloat but you cannot outswim me._ **

"The Bones of a Rabbit" - Young Heretics

* * *

Death was woken from his trance-like meditative state when he heard Nyx start to move around. The Vale was considerably lighter than it had been hours before, but the dark, overcast feeling hadn’t gone away.

The horseman watched the shapeshifter toss and turn, deliberating on his options. He could leave her there and head to Itzal Keep on his own. In her current state, she would be of little threat to him. He could kill her, but somehow he knew that if there was a way to wake up the Dark Creator, that would probably be it, and Death really didn’t want a deranged Ancient on his heels as well. The red-haired girl put a hand to her head, her forehead creased in pain as she let out a harsh noise of agony, and Death knew that he was going to go with the option he had already reluctantly agreed to.

He sighed and stood up, every joint in his body groaning as they were forced into action. The Nephilim walked over to where Nyx was sleeping and crouched down, grabbing one of her thin shoulders and shook her roughly, eager to get going so the girl could get out of his hair.

The shapeshifter jumped under his hand, and upon seeing him, blinked and let out a long string of swears with the Rider’s name thrown in, clearly surprised to see him. “I thought you would have left me. There’s no question that would have been the smart thing to do.”

“Yes,” Death agreed, inclining his head. “But, my brother War has spent a great deal of time attempting to educate me in the ways of honor, and somehow I think he might have looked down on me leaving an injured girl alone in the forest while an entire army is after her.”

Nyx nodded seriously, “Yeah, I think your brother wouldn’t have liked that.” She winced, and rubbed her forehead, mindful of her third eye, and looked at him sharply, “But you don’t look like the kind of man who cares about honor.”

Death attempted to look insulted but realized there wasn’t much point when his face was completely covered. He laughed dryly, “Usually you would be right, and I will admit that I’m doing this for myself. I can already see War glaring at me for being so underhanded.”

The purple eyed girl laughed, giggly and infectious before the noise cut off into a pained squeak. “So, Death, when are you planning on heading out? Because Pyrrhos is definitely on the move again, and I feel like my brain’s about to pop out and follow him.”

“I’m sure there would be no great loss.” Death deadpanned. The small girl shot him a glare before hefting herself to her feet. She swayed for a moment, and the Horseman wondered if she was going to fall over. Valiantly, she managed to steady herself, but it was a near thing. It was then that he realized how _small_ she was. In the darkness of the night before, he had overlooked any details about how the shapeshifter appeared. Now, however, these thoughts were making themselves known. Of course, Nephilim tended to be taller than the average inhabitant of the multiverse, but she looked barely over five feet tall, and he suddenly wondered what she had been thinking when she took on Dhaun and his army. She would have been crushed.

“Well?” Nyx asked impatiently, raising an eyebrow at his sudden silence.

Death observed her carefully, attempting to figure out how and why the girl had made herself the target of an entire army. He realized that hours before when they were discussing Nyx’s familiar, that he had never asked her of what had motivated such a reckless attack. “Before we go anywhere, I need to know why you attacked the God Commander when you knew you couldn’t beat him.”

She looked up at him, forehead creased with pain and mouth tight. He recognized that look; it was the look of a proud creature who had been brought to its knees from the force of a fatal blow. It seemed the orchid eyed girl was truly desperate. “You do not know Dhaun as I do,” Her voice was strangely penetrating, and the Horseman fought the urge to take a step back from those dead sounding words and hollow eyes. “I would have preferred to die fighting him; to allow him to continue thinking himself unhindered would have been a terrible waste of opportunity.”

“And dying senselessly was a much better option to you?” Death questioned, “What hindrance would have been caused to him if you had died right there? What purpose could that possibly serve?”

All Nyx did was turn her head. “I would not have died.” Her eyes, all three of them, looked sure and confident. “Astraea knows what would have happened, but I am sure it was not death that awaited me.” Without reason, she tensed and whipped around to face him again. She regarded him carefully, and then cast her eyes to the sky, staring at the distant planets as if she wished to know their secrets. “Or perhaps, it was _Death_ that awaited me.” She assessed him on the same level with which she judged most things. This man, this _Nephilim_ , was her savior…? She had expected more than him, to be honest, but it would be just like the other gods to send her someone she didn’t want.

“Are you implying that this was planned? Were you expecting someone to swoop in and save you at the last possible second?” The Nephilim’s voice was accusing; as if she had been the one to pull at the strings of fate.

The shapeshifter shot him a withering look. “Why would I plan out having you save me? There are an astronomical number of variables that could have screwed me over if even one thing went wrong.” She paused and met the Horseman’s fiery eyes. “No, it is far more likely that a god is behind this. They would be able to control the unknown factors.”

“Gods?” Death asked incredulously. “Why would a god save you? You aren’t exactly considered important to the gods, are you?”

Nyx looked away, her expression melancholy as she gazed across the meadow and into the dim woodlands surrounding them. “No,” She murmured. “I am not what I used to be. But that is still the most realistic explanation I can give you.”

The conversation was clearly over, and Death watched the girl sway on her feet as a wave of dizziness hit her. “I suppose we should be on the move… your giant furball will be getting even further away the longer we wait.”

“Heh, you’re telling me!” The girl winced and then quirked her lips, “So, how’s this gonna work?”

Death tilted his head slightly, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Finally, he gave up asking: “How is what going to work?”

“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but I can’t exactly run as fast as your horse, and riding double would be a literal pain in the ass.” She paused, “And, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a shifted form up when my head feels like it’s splitting in two.”

* * *

 

They ended up having to ride double anyways, much to Death’s chagrin. Any attempt for Nyx to hold the form of a different animal failed miserably; the sheer amount of stress her mind was under simply could not handle the concentration it took to hold an alternate form.

To make things a little more awkward, because the Creator and the cosmos seemed to want to make this entire mission as difficult as possible, the only way both of them could ride Despair was if she sat in between his legs. While not uncomfortable, per-se, it was what one could call a _compromising position_. Luckily for the Rider, Nyx seemed much too busy fawning over his mount to care where he man-handled her in the saddle. He would have to thank the Creator for the little things, he supposed.

“You’re such a _handsome_ horse,” she cooed, “I like your green glow. It’s very intimidating and sci-fi-fantasy, very fitting of you and your master.”

Death internally sighed, and wondered how many different compliments she could give the silly horse before she ran out. But, while he was not overjoyed with all of the noise, Despair was eating it up and playing every adorable trump card he knew. The Nephilim was puzzled at when his horse had learned to do half of the things he was currently hamming up to get more attention from the small shapeshifter.

Nyx looked up, attempting to meet Death’s eyes. She realized that from this angle, she could see the curve of his chin from underneath the mask. Quickly, the shapeshifter moved so that she didn’t feel like she was invading the horseman’s privacy, no matter how curious she _actually_ was. “So,” she drew the word out, trying to articulate her thoughts. “what kind of work do you do for the Charred Council?”

Moments passed, and Nyx was almost sure he wasn’t going to reply. Finally, though, he sighed and answered her question, “My siblings and I are… indentured, I suppose you could call it, to the Charred Council. For the most part, that means we clean up the messes that the rest of the universe makes. Our duty is to keep the Balance from becoming unequal, though, if you were to ask me, the Council itself is corrupted; they have simply been in power for too long, it has gone to their heads.”

Nyx nodded in understanding, “Yeah, the Charred Council was put into power when the Creator left. I remember them in the beginning; I hated them. They were as narcissistic as bodiless, sentient spirits could be, and it doesn’t seem like that’s changed much in the millions of years I’ve observed.” She faced forward again, watching the plains fly by as Despair galloped towards the mountains. The brightest point in the day was approaching, and the darkness had retreated for the time being, giving the Vale the appearance of a cloudy day. It would only be a few hours before they reached Itzal Keep, and Nyx was looking forward to seeing Pyrrhos and being rid of the throbbing pain in her head soon.

She should have expected a question to be asked in return, but it was still a shock that Death, ever the conversationalist, would willing initiate conversation with anyone, much less a tag-along like her.

“So, how old are you anyway?"

The question wasn’t funny, but the shapeshifter suddenly realized how outrageous her current situation was. She laughed and replied, “Death, did no one ever tell you not to ask a lady’s age?”

“If I thought you were a lady, I wouldn’t have asked.” Death deadpanned, ignoring the red-haired girl’s scandalized gasp, mentally counting down the time it would take to reach the sprawling, dark mountains that loomed ahead of them.

* * *

 

The ride had continued in a silence that was only slightly uncomfortable, before Nyx sat up straight, the top of her fiery head narrowly missing Death’s chin. “Something’s wrong.” She stated, looking frantically around. While the hours had passed, the darkness had crept forward again, and was beginning to obscure vision.

Death strained his ears, listening for any signs of danger. “What’s the problem, girl? Have you seen something?”

“No,” she replied, “it’s not what I see, it’s what I hear. It’s too quiet…”

This gave the horseman pause, and he noticed that she was correct. The reason he hadn’t heard anything approach was because there was almost no noise, and what he could hear was muffled, like he was listening to things on the other side of a wall.

Death started when Nyx jabbed him in the side with a pointed elbow and whispered “They’re Dhaun’s shadows! Look alive, Rider, we have some uglies to destroy.”


	6. Chapter 5: Of Fighting and Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death and Nyx fight Dhaun's shadows, and Nyx reveals some of her dark past.

**Chapter Five: Of Fighting and Freedom**

**_I ruled the world._ **

**_With these hands I shook the heavens to the ground._ **

**_I laid the gods to rest._ **

**_I held the key to the kingdom._ **

**_Lions guarding castle walls._ **

**_Hail the king of death._ **

“Lost it All” - Black Veil Brides

* * *

 

The hulking creatures came flying out of the rapidly increasing darkness, flying at them from the hills.

“Shit-” Nyx grabbed Death with more speed and strength than what should have been possible and rolled both of them off of Despair’s back just in time for the shadow behemoths to slide through the horse as he faded away into nothing.

In the brief seconds of confusion, Death noticed, almost randomly, that the small shapeshifter was astride his hips, and was alarmed to find that felt a clench of heat in his gut at her closeness.

“Oh, no Horseman. This is _not_ the time to space out on me.” She let out a string of swears in a language he didn’t recognise and very nearly jumped off of him, spinning to face the shadow creatures as they realized the trick that had been played on them. Death rose as well, drawing his twin scythes and crouching low in preparation of a hit.

The humanoid forms of the shadow creatures were huge, easily the size of Makers, and retained some semblance of normal until their heads and lower body were revealed. They had the heads of dragons, and their legs were oddly proportioned. Next to him, Nyx pointed out that they looked a little bit like kangaroos, to which his response was asking her what the hell a kangaroo was.

Her answer was drowned out by one of the massive creature’s roars. They hadn’t noticed the absence of other sounds until they were brought back, and Nyx clapped her hands to her ears in an attempt to block out the unyielding screech. With that, the creatures struck, propelling themselves forward with their specially designed legs. Quicker than lightning, the shapeshifter raised her small hands, revealing a pair of dangerous looking clawed gauntlets. She sprung forward to meet one of the creatures, the gauntlets curving in a graceful arc before tearing into the shadowed flesh of the behemoth.

Death’s lightning focus was quickly taken up by the other shadow creature that pounced on him. The creature advanced, forcing Death back. One swing, two, three. Distantly, he heard a familiar yell of pain, but ignored it as he flowed forward, scythes swinging. The creature reeled back as one of his scythes slashed through its arm. Death used the creature’s backpedaling to advance, easily slicing off the creature’s extended arm. He got in close, bashing it back with his armored forearm as he drove one of his scythes home in the creature’s heart. The blood that sprayed out was an inky black, and it splashed onto Death, burning as it seemed to dissolve into smoke. The creature thrashed around wildly. trying to dislodge the scythe still embedded in its chest. Finally, it fell, dissolving into shadow, as it let out a terrifying screech. His battle over, Death turned to watch his companion’s fight.

* * *

 

Nyx growled as the creature forced her back again. She moved forward, claws cutting easily through skin and muscle, but she was thrown back by one of the creature’s massive fists. She slammed the ground _hard_ and cried out as she heard more than felt one of her ribs shatter. Forcing herself into a crouch, she groaned as the position put more pressure on her broken rib. She didn’t have time to care, however, as the creature was poised to strike again, and Nyx found herself rolling out of the way of the creatures next swipe, her hair a red flash as she dove under its massive body.

Now behind the creature, Nyx launched herself at its back, her clawed gauntlet gripping in hard as she climbed up its back, grabbing the behemoth’s muzzle and drawing gashes from its nose all the way to its eyes. The creature realized what she was doing, and Nyx realized her mistake too late. With a crash, the creature let itself fall backwards, forcing a great deal of its weight onto her small body. She cried out, feeling the air leave her lungs in a desperate rush as she was crushed beneath the inky beast.

The creature didn’t seem too inclined to move, either. It probably knew that she would be suffocated underneath its massive body. She forced it up with a roar, her concentration shattered to bits as she dealt with the pain in her head, as well as the new injuries that littered her body thanks to the behemoth. She drove one of her gauntleted hands into the creature’s neck and squeezed, snapping something. With a weak exhale, the creature collapsed forward onto itself.

Letting out a few ragged, wheezing breaths, Nyx started coughing. Bringing her hand up to cover her mouth, she groaned when it came back wet with blood. The creature had forced her broken rib into her lung when it fell on her.

The shapeshifter scrabbled around for her bag, which she had dropped when she dodged the creature the first time. She clenched her fists as the movement brought more pain, the sharp pain radiating from her lower back.

Just as she was about to force herself to her feet to find the fallen bag of medical supplies, the satchel was dropped in front of her, and her line of sight was suddenly filled with blue-gray skin and purple fabric.

“I think you might need this,” Death said, his eyes fixed on her was she coughed again, blood spraying from her lips, thick and surprisingly intense against her paling skin.

“Thanks, Mr. Death,” She wheezed, rummaging in the bag, before pulling out an unpleasant looking green potion. With a sigh that ended in a wracking, wet hack, she pulled the cork on the circular bottle and downed the whole thing without a pause.

Immediately, she howled in pain as every bone in her body seemed to throb in time with her wildly beating heart, the healing potion searching her body and targeting her injuries. There were a lot more than she had thought. With every wound or break the potion found, her pain doubled, the weight of it seeming to crush her. Bones twisted into place with sickening snaps, and open cuts were sewn closed with unseen threads of magic. The whole ordeal lasted less than twenty seconds, but it felt like years to Nyx. Death, who had been watching silently. concern etched into every line of his muscular form, probably thinking that the brutal concoction did more harm than good. But, as fast as it started, it ended, and Nyx was left without injury, the only pain she felt coming in the form of that familiar headache.

Nyx looked at Death, and, smiling cheerily, said, “You know, sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to let those injuries heal on their own. That _cure mortis_ is a nasty little thing, Sometimes I think it enjoys my pain.”

“Why would you use something that causes so much pain? Do you not think that it is counterproductive?” Death asked, grabbing her gauntleted forearm and watching the claws retract as he pulled her to her feet.

Nyx brushed off her tunic, and moved her oversized scarf back into place, pulling the loose material up to cover her head, shading her face with the makeshift hood. She peered up at Death, craning her neck in order to meet his eyes as she answered his question. “Well, it’s the fastest healing potion that won’t kill me with the side effects. My small stature makes it difficult for the less painful ones to work because they’d kill me. The pain this one causes is partly due to overdose.” She sighed, looking around at the quickly darkening fields, “I hope there are no more grievous injuries in my future, because I can’t handle another dose until this one washes out of my system.”

Death looked up at the mountain that towered over them, and in the distance, far above him, he could see the Keep, a dark tumor on the cliff face. Dreading the answer, he asked: “Is there a clear path up this mountain, or will we have to wait for the darkness to pass?”

Nyx laughed, “You want to get this over with, Rider? Fine, there’s a path that we can use even in the deepest part of the darkness.” She turned on her heel and started to walk away from Death. “Come on, the entrance isn’t too terribly far away.” The tall horseman shook his head in disbelief; less than five minutes prior the tiny shapeshifter had been bleeding out with a pierced lung, and then she was just skipping off into the distance?

“You’re a strange girl…” He said to no one, before striding off after her.

He overtook her quickly. One could only move so fast when the difference in height had so much to do with short legs, and she told him so, groaning about how lucky ‘the creation damned tall people’ were and how mean he was for him to use his longer legs against her, to which he replied: “Hurry up and move faster, or I might accidentally step on you, you little half-pint.”

Nyx pursed her lips, glaring at his masked face. Her short stature was something she was _very_ conscious of, seeing how, at five feet tall, she seemed to constantly be surrounded by gigantic he-men. “I’ve taken down people bigger than you, Rider.”

He hummed, absently scratching beneath Dust’s chin as he walked, “I’m sure you have.” She glared harder, but it was to no avail, and eventually gave up and watched the dark plains carefully for any sign of danger; razor sharp eyes (all three of them) on the lookout.

Unable to stand the silence, she started talking again, “Do you know why this mountain range looks so unnatural?” Upon seeing Death’s sidelong glance at her, she continued: “Well, as you probably guessed from my question, it’s not a natural mountain range. A long, _long_ time ago, there was an ocean on the other side of them. One of the other Creators was angry at the Dark Creator, and cursed this land with rainfall that would last a thousand years. Erebus and I managed to contain the rain clouds to one half of our world, and we had to create a barrier that could hold the water back from the more densely populated areas of the Vale. So, I made these mountains to keep the water back. We called the range the Dragon’s Backbone.” Nyx laughed at the incredulous look that Death’s eyes had taken on, “Yeah, I used to be powerful. I was a different person back then. Stronger. But not good. No, I wasn’t good at all at that time. Actually, some of the things I did way back when probably put the Nephilim to shame.” She sighed, a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “I still can’t travel very far outside of this dimension; people remember my face, and I usually get a lot of angry mob action. Huh, I guess it’s been a few millennia since the last time I ventured out. I bet most of Creation thinks I’m finally dead…”

Death stared straight forward, “I can’t imagine you being as bad as the Nephilim. Surely you are exaggerating a little.”

Nyx laughed, “Yeah, well, I was before your time, Death. I was the original Destroyer. The whole reason I ended up with Erebus is because the other Creators thought that he could contain some of my negativity. I was bound to him, for all intents and purposes. I hated it, hated him. They were right when they called me a monster. Some called me the Omnikiller, or the Starkiller. I was indiscriminate.”

“So to control you, they bound you to the Dark Creator? The one known as evil?” Death asked, wondering if the gods could possibly be that stupid.

Nyx scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “Well, not exactly...You see, the ‘Dark Creator’ wasn’t really Erebus. He took the fall for me when the Charred Council came for me, oh Astraea they were young. The king of the Creators had just left, and they were so new; but, anyways, The Dark Creator, technically, is me. But, the actual Creator was Erebus. He just didn’t want me to be targeted by people who had nothing to do with me.” She paused, before saying quietly: “It’s my fault he’s comatose.”

“How?” Death questioned, bewildered at the fact that the girl beside him had apparently destroyed more worlds than his own race had.

“Well, it started several eons ago, and lemme tell you, it wasn’t a good time, I was slipping back from my ‘good place.’

* * *

 

_Erebus walked the sprawling expanse of his garden, lost in thought. The last decades had seen a rise in the collective madness of the multisphere, and he was beginning to worry about its effects on the denizens of the Vale of Darkness, especially his charge, Nyx, the Starkiller that had come from the Abyss. She had been steadily improving as time passed, and the dark-skinned man was sure that with more time, the Abyssal Goddess could return to the multisphere unbound. Surely the more ancient ones could learn acceptance…._

_“Penny for your thoughts, Ere?” The light, musical voice surprised him, and he turned to see Nyx in her Abyssal form, which she hadn’t inhabited for more than one million years. Immediately, he was slightly on edge, as he always was when he saw the armored body of the girl that had struck down so many of his brothers and sisters._

_Her skin was black as pitch, a byproduct of her creation in the primordial darkness of the Abyss, but her hair glowed an impossible white, casting light in a silver nimbus around her head. Those dizzying purple eyes pierced his soul, and he felt unable to look away. “It’s nothing of import, Nyx, just the mindless wanderings of an old god.”_

_“Oh?” She smiled, and looked out over the garden. Large galaxy painted wings splayed out behind her lazily as she surveyed his favorite place in the Vale. “Things are about to change, Erebus. The Balance is shifting, and I_ know _you feel it too…” She met his eyes again, and Erebus noticed how serious she looked. “I hope that the world can be salvaged from the wreckage that this will create.”_

_“What do you mean, Nyx?”_

_“What I mean is that there is a new species on the wind. I think the Creator’s endgame is about to start. I feel it in my bones, my old friend. Just as I feel that soon we will be going separate ways…”_

* * *

 

_Erebus looked out at the ruins of his beautiful Vale. Nyx had been right. Things were changing. The birth of a new species, the Creator’s Angels, had triggered a release of a madness so great it had overtaken the Abyssal Goddess’ mind. She was loose again, and he knew what he had to do to get her back. He only hoped that she could forgive him for leaving her alone. He looked at Pyrrhos, scratching behind his ears absently. The catlike creature had grounded his charge, and never had illegal time travel been such a good idea._

_“Well, boy, ready to go get your favorite person back?”_

_Pyrrhos nuzzled into his hand, purring in his own strange way._

* * *

 

_“No, Erebus, oh please NO!” Nyx was sure that her cries could be heard worlds away from her, but she didn’t care. Her Erebus, her only friend, comatose by her hands. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as her enormous wings fell into ash beside the unconscious Creator’s fallen body. She cradled him in her arms, feeling like she was tetherless, ready to fall away into nothing, much like her wings had done. “Oh, Erebus. You self-sacrificing bastard. Why? There_ had _to be another way to end this.”_

_But, Erebus, for all intents and purposes, was gone; which left Nyx with a lot of ruin to clean, and a lot of ruffled feathers to smooth in the Council of Lords. So, she rose, picking up the tall man with her, and began to walk out of the empty field, Pyrrhos trudging after her, a single splash of color in a sea of desecration. Behind her, the sun set for the final time, engulfing the Vale in twilight until the reawakening of its master._

_Nyx had work to do._

* * *

 

“So, in Erebus’ form, I took over as the leader of this realm, for just long enough to get it back on its feet. Then, I had ‘Erebus’ disappear when they could support themselves again. It’s been like this ever since. Further to the South, in the direction we came from, There’s a kingdom that rules most of the populated Vale. Dhaun dares not attack it, for fear of starting a war too soon…”

Death was silent, as he had been throughout most of her story. Finally, he stopped, and Nyx turned back to look at him. “It seems that we both have a great deal of darkness in our pasts,” He said, observing the defeated set of her shoulders, and dull orchid eyes. “And you have a great deal more I am sure you have not mentioned.”

Nyx smiled sheepishly, “I don’t normally spill my heart out to random Nephilim that I meet while trying to stop evil God-Commanders, so I figured I’d guard a few of the cards I have left.” She started walking again, and Death watched her back, wondering where those massive wings she had described had disappeared to. “Ah,” Nyx let out a sigh of relief, “here’s the tunnel.”

They stopped in front of the smooth rock face. Death looked at the solid wall, and then at the small girl beside him, “I hate to call you insane so early into this partnership, but I fear that you might be delusional. There’s not a path here.”

“Patience, Death. It’s an important virtue, so I’m told.” She put one of her tiny hands on the rock, and it shifted open under her fingers, until a path lit by torchfire appeared, fading off into the darkness far above the first stairs. “I hope you have stamina, Horseman, this is going to be a long climb.”


	7. Chapter 6: Of Castles and Conversation

Trudging wearily up the last of the steps, Nyx grabbed the silver doorknob that would lead Death and herself out of the stygian darkness that seemed to be solid, pushing against her, making her feel claustrophobic. The torches had gone out when they were about halfway up the stairs, leaving total darkness in their wake, much to the twosome’s chagrin. The ascent had gone on in silence, both of them deep in their own thoughts, the only other sounds of life besides their own footsteps came from Dust’s rustling about on Death’s shoulder.

Eager to leave, the shapeshifter took a deep breath.“You ready to get out of this hellhole?” Nyx asked, turning to observe her companion. He said nothing, but his eyes looked as tired as she felt, and she smiled slightly, before opening the door that would lead to safety from the tunnel.

As soon as the door was open, a large, powerful figure came out of the ether, bounding over to Nyx, who was barely out of the way of the stairwell behind her. The shapeshifter only had time for a surprised yelp as she was tackled by the beast. 

Death drew his scythes, ready to fight the creature before he realized that the girl was laughing happily, and the beast was...licking her face?

“Am I to assume that this is your familiar?” Death asked, looking at the behemoth. It was massive, and colored a light gray, with stripes of a darker shade running down its back. Currently, Pyrrhos seemed quite happy assaulting the shapeshifter with his rough tongue, which was situated between some very dangerous looking canines. 

“Yeah,” Nyx gasped out through laughter, and pushed at the overgrown feline’s face, forcing him back enough for her to stand again. “This big idiot is Pyrrhos. He’s just a gigantic kitten, I swear.” 

Death managed to portray his skepticism through his mask, “Right, there is absolutely no way that a five foot tall -at the shoulder- cat could  _ ever _ manage to be dangerous, I’m sure he’s quite tame.”

Pyrrhos swung his massive head around and locked eyes with Death. They were burning yellow and almost painfully intelligent, and the Horseman found himself thinking that the big cat looked more like a sentient being trapped in an animal’s body. “Woah, there, beast; there’s no reason to be hostile,” 

The cat snorted and walked around Nyx, rubbing against her shoulders and purring happily.

“All right, well, now that everyone’s been introduced, I’m going to bed. I might finally be able to get some rest now that that blasted headache is gone.” Nyx cast her eyes at Death, and motioned for him to walk with her, before saying: “Should you end up requiring sleep, there’s an empty room across from mine. If you go the stairs in the main hall, there’s a library. Down the stairs to the right is a kitchen.” Death followed her up a set of stairs at the end of the dark entrance hall; at the top, there was a long hallway with a few doors scattered along each side. “This is my room,” she said, stopping at the plain looking wooden door. “The room right there,” she motioned to the door across the hall, “is the only one that’s still in decent shape.” 

Death had been taking all of this in silently until he noticed the ornate-looking golden door at the end of the hallway; such a large, expensive looking object stuck out in such a demure place. “And what is that room?” He asked, casting a hand out to indicate the door, not that it would be hard for Nyx to infer exactly which door he was talking about. 

“Oh, that. It used to be Erebus’ private study. Mostly there are just portraits he’s collected from different places decorating it now, but it’s open to you as well, I suppose.” She opened the door to her room, and Death couldn’t help but look in. It was hard not to, considering that he was standing in the doorway. Her room was done up in purples and blues and fit right in with the rest of her personality. “Well, I’m turning in for the night,” she said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me.”

  
Without pausing, she disappeared into the room, Pyrrhos trailing behind her. 

Suddenly finding himself alone in a castle with only a crow to keep him company, Death retraced his steps to the area where the main hall was supposed to be. 

The darkest part of the night had just fallen upon Itzal Keep, and even the massive fireplace burning brightly in the library couldn’t stave off the chill such a deep darkness brought in. Finally giving up on trying to find more information about God Commander Dhaun, Death resolved to ask his host about it when she returned to the world of the living. 

Sleep was a rare thing for Death. Not that he wasn’t perfectly capable of it, but he very seldom felt comfortable enough in his surroundings to risk giving the advantage to any enemy. However, there was a weary pull that seemed to make all of his limbs feel as if they weighed a thousand tons, and the Horseman thought that he could, just this once, get a few hours of true rest, before continuing his search for the God Commander. Besides, it wasn’t as if he would truly be in danger; time and experience had made him a featherlight sleeper. If anything changed near him, he would know.

Giving one last glance at the gilded door at the end of the dark hallway, Death shut himself inside the room for some much-needed sleep. 

It felt like it had been seconds since he had discarded his armor and laid down for some shut eye. However, something had him on edge. He waited, standing slowly, attempting to figure out what had put his senses on edge. When he was almost ready to brush it off as a figment of his paranoia, he heard what had startled him out sleep. Coming from the other side of the hallway, he heard a muffled cry of fear.

Carefully, he opened the door, and upon seeing Nyx’s door firmly shut, brushed off the idea of an attacker. He had almost dismissed the girl’s distress as nightmares and gone back to bed when he remembered the shapeshifter’s comments about Dhaun’s ability to feed off of fear and negative emotion, and the pain it caused. Sighing, he walked across the hall, shrugging on a loose undershirt for decency’s sake, and knocked on the door. Hearing no response after the third round of aggressive rapping, Death slowly turned the pushed the door open, noting the silence that had overtaken the room. The light from the torches in the hall cast the dark room in a faintly orange glow, and at the center of it, Nyx was thrashing around on her bed, whimpering pitifully. 

Thankfully, she was alone in the room, save for Pyrrhos, who was watching with a caution that was uniquely feline. 

“You’re just going to stand back and watch this, aren't you, you overgrown kitten?” Death muttered and rolled his eyes when Dust abandoned him to rest on the large, extinct cat’s head. “That's right, throw me to the wolf, you soulless bird.” Silently steeling himself for the wrath of the small goddess, who was still in the depths of a nightmare, Death slowly approached the bed, observing her pained grimace with something akin to worry. 

Peering down at her from the side of the bed, Death placed a hand on her arm, which only made her thrash harder. He shook her arm, and after a few unsuccessful attempts to rouse the sleeping goddess, he gave up, moving his masked face closer to her, and said her name quietly.

He didn't know why he cared. She was having a nightmare; there was no danger besides, perhaps, her emotional security. It really was none of his business. As he uttered her name, louder that time, he tried to convince himself that he was only doing it to make his life easier. Yes, that was it. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, and her quieting down so he could get some sleep would be greatly beneficial. 

After the third shout of her name, Nyx froze, gasping as she went bolt upright, narrowly missing the bone mask that concealed the Horseman’s face. 

“Death--what? What are you doing?!” She sputtered, clearly upset by the dream she had had. She wasn't crying now, but it was obvious that she had been, and the wetness around her eyes made it seem like it wouldn't be long before she was crying again. 

“You were screaming. I could hear it from the other room. Figured I'd make sure you weren't dead, that would be awfully inconvenient.” Dimly, Death was aware that his caustic attitude wouldn't be helpful to her situation, but the comment was out before he could stop himself.

To his surprise, the shapeshifter giggled, before saying, “Death, has anyone ever told you that your bedside manner leaves something to be desired?”

“I could not say, I'm not in this situation very often.”

“Well, thanks for waking me up anyway. It's greatly appreciated.” She looked to the far wall, where Pyrrhos was curled up. Unsurprisingly, Dust still sat on on his head, and the unexpected sight made her laugh. Silence stretched through the room, thick in the absence of conversation. Death was happy to let it stay that way, not knowing if he really wanted to learn anything more about his small companion. If he knew more, it would threaten his ability to remain objective, and she was already worming her way into his life so much.

* * *

Nyx watched the Horseman, his body language closed off, looking at her, but not  _ looking  _ at her. She had almost given up on talking when she realized that there were a few questions that she had for him, if he would answer her. 

“Death, if what I know of the Council is correct, you should have access to far more power than you have now. You  _ are _ here at their request, right?” It was something that had been bothering her for some time. She had heard stories of an inhuman, eldritch reaper, not ones of a man.

“I could ask the same of you, Omnikiller. Aren’t you supposed to be of a species more ancient than the gods? Now you can be felled by a headache, and even one beast is enough to nearly take you down.” Death’s response was cutting, his accurate use of her past hurting her more than she would ever admit out loud. 

Instead, she said “I’ll guess I’ll answer your question in lieu of asking why you deflected mine. But, if I answer your questions, from here on out you’ll have to answer to me.” The Horseman nodded, tensing as if she was going to assault him with deeply personal questions right off the bat. “Relax, I’m not going to ask you the intimate details of your horrifically dark past.” Nyx took a deep breath, and then answered Death’s question. “It traces back to when I was put with Erebus. I didn’t really have a choice about where to go. I could have obliterated them where they stood, easily, but there were too many of them. I’d be fighting for the rest of my life. To keep me contained, they bound me to Erebus, that you know.” 

“But you broke free of that, did you not?” 

“Yes, and that was the problem.” Nyx swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed, sitting in front of Death. She met his eyes, upon seeing interest in them, deftly conjured a chair and motioned towards it. “This seems like it’s going to be a long talk, and I like to be vaguely eye-level with people when I talk to them.” Shooting a glare at the Horseman when he made a snarky comment about her not being able to be eye-level with anyone, she waited until he had settled into the chair before continuing her story, picking at the edge of the shorts she had been sleeping in. “When I broke free, Erebus died and everything got fucked all to hell.” Death shot her a surprised look when she swore, though it wasn’t uncommon, she had sounded so convicting, it made the language seem more serious than he had expected. “It was carnage. A field of the dead, bodies stacked high. When I took over, the residents of the Vale may not have known that I wasn’t Erebus - but your Council did.” Nyx shifted, looking out of the dark window. “I’m actually the one who imprisoned them in stone.”

“What? I had always thought that they had been created like that...” Death raised his eyebrows, his curiosity piqued. “Why did you do it?”

Nyx laughed, “I had always wanted to stick it to that Council, but I never had the opportunity. So, when they approached me about something as silly as  _ blackmail _ , I kicked their asses and accused them of being blasphemers. Within the Council of Gods, I am allowed to defend attacks against by reputation, and this was only briefly before the other Creators found out what had happened in the Vale, and cut off my powers. By the time they saw what had happened, it was too late to reverse it.” 

“What were they saying?” Death asked, wondering what could be vulgar enough to earn an accusation of blasphemy. 

“They, like Dhaun, questioned the relationship that Erebus and I had.” Answering his next question before it had a chance to be said, she added, “It qualified as blasphemy because there was a specific clause written into the Creator’s Law that no being, be them a god or a man, would be allowed to ‘know me.’” Death tilted his head in question, and Nyx looked away, a little embarrassed. “Ya’know, in the  _ biblical sense. _ ” The look of shock in his eyes was almost worth the shame of having to answer his next question. 

  
“Why would that matter? More so, why is it an official  _ law _ ? Do they care who you lay with that much?”

Nyx quirked her lips, trying to put to words the circumstances surrounding the Council’s unfair judgment. “Ah, well, you do know what I am, right?” Upon seeing Death shake his head, she sighed, “Well, it  _ is  _ the main reason that I have the restrictions that were placed upon me.” She crossed her legs and fidgeted with the blankets, avoiding answering his question. 

“In the beginning, there was only the Void, I believe that you may know it as Oblivion. A vast, empty wasteland, with no life, no creation… Aside from me. For Creation knows how long, it was only me. Time wasn't even a concept that had been thought of yet. I was alone.” She wouldn't meet his masked eyes, reliving an older than ancient past that still haunted her dreams. “I am the only one of my kind, the ultimate Creator, some would call me, as I facilitate the births of all the worlds the others make. I  _ give _ them the powers they have because they were already mine.

“Later, they, the gods that I created, realized how bad that would be for them, and began a coup. Slowly, while I was reincarnated into mortal forms, they instituted laws that limited myself under the guise of ‘creating equality for all.’ It was a blatant ruse, but I was powerless against it.”

Death stopped her there, shaking his head. “If you’re the supreme being that you seem to be, then you should have been able to do something, right?” 

Nyx sighed, “Technically, yes, there were many things I could have done to stop them from excluding me. But it would have ended in their utter annihilation and I wasn't a cruel being back then. I tried to be peaceful, I really did.”

“So, what happened?” The horseman asked, not sure if he wanted to know. He still didn't see how this caused the mass extermination that the Omnikiller had carried out.

“So, they got desperate. I wasn't leaving, and they wanted more power, more worlds, more Creation. They were greedy, and from them, God Commander Dhaun rose.”

Death sucked in a surprised breath, eyes wide. “Dhaun is a Creator?” 

“Sort of, he's a half-breed who won the hearts of the others by really hating me.” Nyx’s eyes slipped shut. In her mind’s eye, she could still see every detail of what happened next with a painfully perfect clarity. “Death was too good for me, he said. I was too powerful for him to justify putting me down like a dog in the street. So he waited until I was reincarnated into a relatively powerless form… And then he attacked.” 

“Can you access your powers in your reincarnated state?” Death asked, and seemed to see where the conversation was going. 

“No, not without a mate. Reincarnated, I’m basically human. Dhaun used that to his advantage, and he tried to break me. Some foolish thought of his must have justified his actions as ‘for the greater good,’ but it was torture, plain and simple.” Nyx’s hands grasped at pendant that hung around her neck, the ruby eyes of a dragon staring back at Death. “And it worked, though perhaps not in the way that he intended.

“He kept me locked up, chained like the Norse god Fenrir, but he and every other Creator knew that when I got out, there would be hell to pay. And if I had had my way, I would have taken my pound of flesh from Dhaun for what he did to me. After  _ his  _ son was born, there was nothing left to stop me.”

Death was sitting quietly, trying not to imagine the horrific situation that it must have painted. 

Nyx could still remember everything about that day, a far cry from the two hundred years that followed it, where her only memories were hazy recollections of nights when insanity seemed to spit her out, if only for a few days. She remembered Cain, her tiny son, sleeping in the cot that Dhaun had given her. She remembered Dhaun whispering in her ear how  _ beautiful  _ he was, how he hoped  _ all  _ of their children looked as perfect as Cain did. She remembered breaking the God Commander’s neck and cursing him, then grabbing the baby and leaving, a piece of her irreparably broken. Then, there was nothing but the killing fields, and vaguely, a memory covered in mist, the scene of a battle.

“I think I’m going to try to go to sleep again, Horseman. You should do the same.” Nyx’s voice was shaky, upset, and Death found himself hesitant to leave her alone. She seemed to read that, and stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Unless you want to stay in here and sleep with me, you should get gone, kiddo.” It sounded like she was trying to joke, but her desperate, saddened eyes almost seemed serious. And with that parting comment, she turned on her heel and disappeared from the room into one of the side doors that had escaped Death’s notice. 

  
Death stayed sitting there for several more minutes, wondering how he had gotten into this mess, before he rose from the chair, and, casting his gaze around the room, he left, not even bothering to retrieve Dust from where he was now sleeping on Pyrrhos’ head.


End file.
